In perhaps the weirdest case of mistaken identity in the history of gunplay, a homeowner was arrested after trying to shoot a pesky skunk - which actually turned out to be a cyclist.

No, not a trained skunk on a tiny bicycle. Or some guy trying out a Halloween costume early. The target was a 54-year-old man who has no bushy tail, striped pelt or any other attributes common to the mephitidae family. Yet, his paw - er, hand - was blasted with a bullet when a rifle-toting resident somehow confused him with a skunk.

But earnestness goes only so far with the law. Divan, who has no criminal history, faces a felony charge of reckless discharge of a firearm. Monday, he was being held at LaSalle County Jail. Bond was set at under $20,000. So I couldn't ask him how he could make such an Elmer Fudd-esque hunting mistake. Bond was set at under $20,000.

Saturday, Bowne was cycling on Illinois Route 251 outside Mendota, 70 miles north of Peoria. A tire blew out, so he pulled off the road. To repair the tire, he found a flat and safe spot in a roadside ditch.

Meantime, from about 40 yards away, Divan noticed movements in the ditch. He'd had his eyes peeled that away: for the previous few days, he'd been bothered by a skunk bustling about his rural property, police say. He'd taken several shots at the critter, none on the mark.

Why the skunk vexation? LaSalle County Assistant State's Attorney Greg Sticka isn't sure. Mendota has skunks, but not like Hamlin had rats.

"It's not like there's a skunk on every corner," Sticka says.

Still, as Divan peered at weeds rustling in the ditch, he thought he spotted that rascally skunk. Actually, it was a full-grown man, Bowne. And actually, he's more than typically full-grown: Bowne is 6-foot-2 and 220 pounds. And if I need to point this out, skunks are much smaller: they average about 2 feet in length with a max weight of maybe 18 pounds.

"It's pretty hard to mistake a person for a skunk," says Sticka.

Just to be sure, I asked: does Bowne in any way resemble a skunk? "No," Sticka says, "he does not."

Divan later admitted to police he had been drinking that day, though authorities could not specify the amount. But if some people get tipsy and see pink elephants, maybe others see skunks.

Page 2 of 2 - Bowne was wearing a bicycle helmet that flashes a splotch of black. But the helmet bears no shock of white, and no skunk pattern. Further, Bowne says, much of the helmet is red, and his shirt was black and blue. How does that meld into kaleidoscope of skunk?

Beats me, but Divan later told police he thought he saw black and white stirring in weeds.

So, Divan allegedly grabbed his .22-caliber rifle, stepped outside his home and took aim at his quarry.

BLAM! BLAM!

This time, after shooting and missing for days, his aim improved - but thankfully not too much. Bowne says he had his hand near his face when suddenly he saw blood spatter across his torso.

"At first, I didn't realized I'd been shot," he says.

Then he looked at his hand: a bullet had ripped through his palm and thumb. If the trajectory had been a few inches otherwise, the bullet could've torn through Bowne's head.

"Hey!" he yelled out, to no one in particular. "You shot me!"

Moments later, an unarmed Divan rushed up to Bowne. Though the two live not far from one another, they'd never met.

"I thought you were a skunk," Divan blurted. "I can call 911 for you."

With no cellphone apparently on him, Divan ran back to his house to phone for help. But soon thereafter, he returned to say, "I can't get a hold of the police. I can't dial 911."

Bowne didn't know what to make of that, but he didn't much care. With his unbloodied hand, he'd already pulled out his cellphone and called 911. Moments later, Bowne says, Divan excused himself: "I have something on the stove, so I can't stay."

As Divan hustled back to his kitchen, Bowne waited for police, dumbfounded. "He just left me there," Bowne says.

Police arrived and hauled off a cooperative Divan to the county calaboose.

Meantime, an ambulance took Bowne to a local hospital. He was treated and released, though pain throbbed through Monday.